Endymion was so delighted by the revelation that Tchai was apparently short for Tchaikovsky, and that was the fox’s name, that he was woefully oblivious to the rest of this situation until Miss Sprout had almost bowled him over.
She didn’t quite manage it this time, but Endymion still found himself face to face with her, their bodies altogether too close again. Horizontal, vertical – it really didn’t make things any better, did it? His hands had come up to steady them, but too late; clasping her now only made this an embrace.
Warm as another human body was against the snow and sleet outside the greenhouse panes, Endymion coughed and removed his arms from around her as if he’d been burnt.
“Miss Sprout,” he said, mouth twitching in chagrin or in pleasure, he couldn’t decide. He ran a sheepish hand through his hair. “It’s – well, a pleasure to see you. I thought I’d gotten lost in here,” he admitted, bewildered by just about every part of this. “I could have sworn I was the only soul around. Well – except the quail,” he pointed out, with a laugh.
She didn’t quite manage it this time, but Endymion still found himself face to face with her, their bodies altogether too close again. Horizontal, vertical – it really didn’t make things any better, did it? His hands had come up to steady them, but too late; clasping her now only made this an embrace.
Warm as another human body was against the snow and sleet outside the greenhouse panes, Endymion coughed and removed his arms from around her as if he’d been burnt.
“Miss Sprout,” he said, mouth twitching in chagrin or in pleasure, he couldn’t decide. He ran a sheepish hand through his hair. “It’s – well, a pleasure to see you. I thought I’d gotten lost in here,” he admitted, bewildered by just about every part of this. “I could have sworn I was the only soul around. Well – except the quail,” he pointed out, with a laugh.
